Smoke and Kisses
by megazorzz
Summary: Clint and Bruce have late night hangouts, smoke a lil' somethin' somethin' and talk about a boy, namely Thor. And then later, Bruce and Thor make out. There's also some background Clint/Phil. Oneshot.


Bruce huddled in the corner of his bed, shunning the blankets. His skin was still hot and damp. It was summer and the Other Guy emerged not four hours ago. He roared in the fiery sunset, savagely dismantling drone after drone. When it was all over, he lay nude on the street corner, nestled in a bed of circuits and scraps. Later that evening, after Bruce blinked into consciousness, Thor called through his door, announcing dinner. The usual congratulations were passed from hero to hero. Tony clapped him on the back and Steve filled him in on the wreckage he wrought. Steve smiled softly. Across the feast-burdened table, Thor gazed at him and broke into a boisterous smile. Bruce then swallowed his drink the wrong way and sputtered on his end of the table. Clint and Tony laughed.

"Getting a little excited there, buddy?" Tony razzed.

"I'm okay," Bruce managed. "Uh…I'm sort of tired you guys. I think I'm going to head to bed."

They called their good-byes as Bruce left the dining room, but felt the grasp of none other than Thor on his shoulder. Bruce turned toward the towering blond.

"My comrade, before you slumber, I wanted to offer you my personal adulations." He lowered himself to one knee, fist clenched over his heart. "As always, you fought valiantly and turned the tide of today's battle in our favor. You are a true warrior."

Bruce's cheeks burned. "T-thank you, but that wasn't really me out there. Maybe you can thank him next time he comes out?" He burned hotter. What was he saying?

Thor looked up at him, and narrowed his brows. "If you think that would be more appropriate, I would be happy to oblige." Thor stood. "But do not underestimate your fighting spirit—it is as much a part of you, as you are of it."

"Thank you, Thor. I will keep that in miiiiii—" before he knew it, Bruce was lifted off of his feet in another of Thor's bear hugs. He had never really gotten used to it. His heart pounded every time—in his temple and throat and it settled and writhed in places Bruce would never say aloud. He was on his own feet again, a great hand rustling his hair.

"Sleep well, my friend. You have earned it."

Tony called Thor back to the dining room, tempting him with another round of food and drink.

Bruce waved back and headed toward the elevator.

It was almost one in the morning. In spite of his exhaustion, he couldn't will himself to sleep. Too hot out. In? Just too hot somewhere. He sat up and rubbed his eyes. He was still sort of hungry. He slipped on a pair of jeans and his flips flops and headed to his floor's kitchen. While not as huge as the Stark's main kitchen, it was modestly stocked and equipped (and 'modestly' relative to what Tony usually had still amounted to a nice stock). And he had it all to himself.

A rapping at his door bid him to open it. He peered through the peephole and saw Clint outside. He opened up.

"Still awake?"

"Ah, I never sleep much." Clint crossed the threshold. "Nice digs you got here."

"Yeah, it's nice."

Clint plopped down on the couch. He had on a thin hoodie and violet gym shorts.

Bruce perused the fridge. A bit sparse tonight. "Want anything?"

"Got any beer?"

Bruce answered by tossing him one. Clint snatched it from the air without looking. Clint was soon distracted by the sliding-glass doors. "Aww, balcony." He pressed his nose up against the glass.

"There're places to sit out there, if you wanna hang out outside."

"Awesome!" He slid open the door and sprung outside. He nestled in the corner of the outdoor couch. Bruce opened his beer and licked the fizz off as it ran down his fingers. Clint peeled the cap off his bottle with his teeth, set it aside and produced a small silver cigarette case. He flicked it open and pulled out a cigarette. A short flicker of the lighter and it was lit.

"What's that smell?"

Clint took a drag and smiled mischievously. "Illegals."

Bruce sniffed again. "Is that weed?"

"This is bedtime junk," he grunted. He offered the smoldering stick to Bruce. He punched it and held it to his mouth. His inhalation was long and deep.

"Dang. You aren't new to this are you?"

A haze settled in over Bruce's vision. "I had a roommate in college who smoked."

Clint giggled. "The Hulk a stoner?"

Bruce took a deep breath. A distinct tingle settled in his head and extremities. The city flickered and danced.

"I think I'm high. Thanks Clint."

"Well you deserve it, bro. You smashed, like, half of those cyborg dudes today." Clint held up a fist and Bruce pounded it, deciding not to fight a compliment for once.

"How'd you get a hold of this stuff anyway?"

Clint smiled and cleared his throat. "Phil."

Bruce snorted and sank all the way down in his sink. "Coulson? You mean brick wall, impenetrable Coulson? SHIELD's Coulson?"

Clint released a great howl of laughter in response. He couldn't hold it back.

"How did that even come about?" Bruce asked. He blanked his expression and lowered his voice to Coulson's subdued, controlled tones. "Good afternoon Agent Barton. Would you like to buy some pot?"

Clint nudged his shoulder. "That would've been so hilarious. Well, sometimes when SHIELD—before I got caught up in this—sometimes when they busted up a drug cartel, there would naturally be a store of weed there. And they hold all that shit in some vault as evidence."

"Cool."

"And, since Phil and I go way back," Bruce cocked his head at the use of Coulson's first name and Clint grinned and went on, "Well. He knows how stressful our life can be…so…he did this and that with some paperwork and suddenly that cartel had a little less weed in their cache. He's cool like that."

"Aww."

"'Aww' what?" Clint gave an exaggerated pout. He pulled his legs up onto the couch and crossed his legs.

"He cares about you, doesn't he?"

Clint's face grew red. The moon was bright that night and the sky clear. "Well, uhm…we're kind of a thing…" Clint trailed off.

Bruce gasped. "Really?"

"Yeah. Love him." He swooned and batted his eyelashes. "He thinks I'm pretty."

"Must be nice."

"Peeps think you're pretty too," Clint teased.

"What do you mean?"

Clint rolled his eyes and gave him a glib stare. "You can't be serious."

Bruce squirmed in his seat and sipped his beer. "I actually have no idea what you're talking about right now."

"Come on," Clint persisted. Bruce shook his head in reply. "Really? You haven't noticed?"

"Noticed who?"

Clint rolled his eyes again. "Just a second." He whipped out his case again and extracted another joint. He lit it and took a drag. Once the smoke filled his lungs, he grunted out, "Here we go."

He handed it to Bruce and continued. "Well, my dear Bruce Banner, what I am trying to say, is that a certain someone, someone who is now resting in this very building, may be holding a torch for you."

Bruce coughed and sputtered again, not believing his ears. He'd blame it on the weed, but Clint was making this all too clear. "Well, spit it out." Bruce passed it back and looked over the balcony's edge at the cityscape. Clint took another puff. Bruce's lungs and head tingled more, and his heart had found its way to his throat. He almost couldn't take the anticipation.

"My dear Bruce-y. That person is none other than Thor himself!" His voice escalated into a squeak.

Bruce covered his mouth to keep from returning the squeak. "What? How is that even possible, I don't get—"

"_How_ have you not noticed? Ohmygod, it's so obvious!"

Bruce racked his mind, but was too high to find anything support his point. He was getting sort of hungry though. "I can't think of any signs." Bruce still blushed though. He had thought about it before, sure, but he'd never expect anything in return. Thor was a good-looking man. God? Demigod? Superhero person. He was really hot. And endearing. Bruce let loose a small scoff at his lack of mental cogency.

"Well, for starters, he fuckin' carries you home all the time!"

"What? When?"

"Whenever you go all big and green and rage-like. You always get all exhausted and shit and sometimes you pass out." Clint blew the smoke in Bruce's face.

"He's been carrying me home?!" Bruce gasped. He's usually bare-ass naked most of the time after he Hulked out. And Thor, all sweaty and… oh god.

"And we all thought it was more convenient—Tony wouldn't have to call a car or anything. But then he started doing it ALL THE TIME." Bruce took the waiting joint and took a big hit. Cough. Sputter.

"And all those bear-hugs the," Clint emphatically gasped, "full body contact?"

"But I thought that was some Asgardian warrior thing or something."

"Well, with the rest of us, it sort of is, I guess. But you, he clings to you all the time. How have you not noticed? He goes pretty far out of his way to rub up on your junk."

Bruce settled back in his seat, letting the city lights burn his retinas, taking in the blinking of overhead planes. "How did I miss it?" he thought. There are the little things he does too. Whenever he clears the table, he always takes Bruce's. The hugs they covered, but not how Thor hovered over him in the lab, and helped Bruce with the heavy lifting or how he always looms over his shoulder, his beard scratching Bruce's ear. He constantly asked questions about his work, and let Bruce go on and on, spellbound. Thor even held the door open for him once or a million times.

He remembered a time when he cut his finger slicing tomatoes. He was bleeding more than he thought a cut like that would. Thor ripped off part of his damn t-shirt and dressed his cut. Later that evening, having wrapped the wound in actual bandages, Bruce remembered Thor giving him a perplexing frown. He still walked over and kissed the cut. Kissed his boo-boo. Bruce kicked himself. He was so oblivious.

Clint gave a triumphant smirk and downed his beer.

"So what if he does?" Bruce started. "He's…he's Thor. There must be tons of people who he'd rather have."

Clint let out an exasperated sigh into the late night air. "Really, Banner?"

"'Really' what?" While Bruce didn't adopt the tones of an adolescent, he still skirted it closely. But he meant what he said, and it didn't bother him as much as it seemed to bother Clint. It's not like Thor was abandoning him—he wasn't even with him to begin with. Thor, as kind as he has been, as he has demonstrated, was still unattainable. And he concluded that he was ultimately fine with it. Maybe.

"The point is that he likes you. Right now." He turned to Bruce. "Y'know I thought the same thing when Phil started acting all...infatuated and crap."

"Well, what did you do about it?"

"I just let it go its course." The ends of Clint's ears turned pink. "Sort of a tit-for-tat kind of thing. He'd bring me lunch or something, and I would hang out in his office, joke around. And it sort of progressed along those lines."

"Oh don't act all innocent and virginal, Clint," a voice sounded behind them. Coulson emerged from the suite, dressed in plaid pajama bottoms and a heavy black sweater. Clint scrambled to make room on the couch. Coulson slowly sat and slung an arm around Clint, and Clint reciprocated by throwing a leg over Phil's.

Coulson leaned to whisper to Bruce. "The first time he came by my office, he pounced over my desk and into my lap. Not that I had any problem with that." He winked at Clint. "Now bring me up to speed, what are we talking here?"

"Well…" Bruce started.

"I'm tryin' to convince Bruce here to pounce into _Thor's _lap," Clint finished.

"Hmm." Phil mused for a moment, "I have noticed the chemistry caught as well."

"Has everyone besides me noticed this?"

"Yes."

"Pretty much, yeah. It's really obvious he wants in." Clint pinched Bruce's side and he yelped.

"I think it's pretty…adorable," Phil offered.

"Aaaaaand Bruce, if you stop shutting yourself down for two seconds, you can touch his butt! As long as you both want it, you should go for it." Clint hooked his fingers around Phil's head and pulled him close. "See? Doesn't this look nice?" He pecked Phil's cheek.

"Oh stop it you." The corners of Phil's mouth rose slightly.

Bruce sighed. It was nice to think about, anyway. An alien-demigod-thunder-warrior guy liked him. A lot, apparently. It's not like his life wasn't escalating in bizarreness anyway. He stood and stretched, then lay on the balcony floor and stared into the cosmos, the glinting, expansive body—one Thor knew more intimately than Bruce ever would. And Thor's butt, well, that was another matter entirely. Clint yawned.

"This is good stuff, Coulson."

The other man chuckled. "Hm. I thought you were acting peculiar. Glad I could be of service." Clint nestled into Phil's shoulder. Soon he was softly snoring and Phil wiped away a dribble of drool from Clint's lips.

"If it's worth anything, Banner, you're a good man."

Bruce was brought back to Earth. He looked toward Phil.

"Thanks, Coulson. That means something coming from you."

"No problem." Phil cradled a now loudly snoring Clint and slid through the sliding glass doors. He was really knocked out. "And Bruce?"

"Yeah?"

"Call me Phil."

He smiled. "Ok."

After they left he sat alone in the night air. He reached in his pocket and retrieved his cell phone. He pulled up Thor's number and started a text message. Baby steps.

He decided to send himself a message, reminding himself to talk to Thor the next morning—he didn't remember how well he would remember tonight's conversation.

He tossed the phone on the couch and returned to the fridge. His phone beeped. Raising a curious eyebrow, he stumbled over to the phone. A message from Thor. "What did you want to talk about?"

His heart raced. He went to his inbox and saw that he sent his reminder text to Thor instead of himself. Oh god, he was high.

"I am awake and can come to you now, if you desire."

He gave himself only a second to think before sending a nervous "Ok." He paced the room until a knock interrupted him.

"Hey."

"Hello, my friend. Is there something wrong?"

"No nothing wrong. Uhm…do you wanna sit down?"

Thor sat. "There seems to be something bothering you? Can you not sleep?"

His heart was racing in his throat, his ears burned red. He was here, in his space, on his couch. Bruce inched closer. Just an inch, but Thor did too.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course, my friend."

"Do you…ah…this is going to sound so awkward." Bruce was red.

"There is nothing to be nervous about. What is it you want to know?"

Another inch closer. His head swam in the haze. It made him bold. Maybe a little reckless.

"Do you like me?"

It was Thor's turn to blush. "What do you mean, Bruce?"

"I mean maybe possibly perhaps more than a friend?"

Thor closed the gap and took Bruce's hands into his. They were so warm, and slightly rough. Strong. "You are a wonderful man Bruce. So intelligent." He paused and took in Bruce's face, which bid him to continue. "I care for you deeply Bruce. But if this is not something you desire, then I shall speak no more on the subject."

Maybe it was the weed, or maybe Thor's radiating warmth but Bruce decided to answer him with a caress through his hair and a kiss. Thor jumped, but gladly accepted it. His beard rubbed and scratched Bruce's face raw, but Bruce didn't care.

It was not like any kiss that punctuated months and months of stifling, but it was deep and tender. Thor breathed in and out through his nose, kissing more and more deeply, satisfying an inner thirst at last. Bruce accepted his tongue. Bruce climbed up onto his lap and straddled the demigod. He felt his powerful hands stroke his back and thighs. Bruce moaned.

Bruce's fingers trailed along Thor's massive chest that rose and fell beneath them. Only a thin layer of white cotton separated him from his idol. Bruce tugged at it.

Bruce felt a flirty smirk on his mouth. "That can be removed."

He only managed a nod. A veil of disbelief still hung over his mind, but was dashed away as Thor's t-shirt was flung across the room. This was real, alright. His fingers grazed his soft chest hair and slowly traveled south, letting the dense desire that pooled in his stomach lead the way. "Shall I?"

"No, that's okay," Bruce whispered. "We can go slow."

"If that is what you wish."

"But, we can move to somewhere more comfortable?"

He was whisked off his feet and Thor's massive arms cradled him all the way to the bed. He playfully tossed Bruce onto the mattress and pounced on top of him. Thor nibbled at his neck and ear, leaving a flushed trail in his wake. Bruce let loose a whimper and Thor's mouth returned to his, hungry and rough.

After the love bites and hickeys, they sat up awhile and talked Nothing too serious, just what music they both liked, or the seasons, all in between Thor's kind words. Bruce still blushed, but kept the protests down, finally having accepted the fact that an other-wordly Adonis happily clung to him. In bed no less. He lay, absent-mindedly stroking Bruce's hair, smiling softly.

Before he finally drifted off, Thor brought him closer to him so their legs and arms tangled around the other. "Goodnight, my sweet."

Bruce snored.


End file.
